When their words finally faded away, she drifted off to sleep, and he listened to her breathing beside him before letting his own mind shut down. He would wake next to her in the morning, and he wouldn’t be away from her side again. He didn’t know how; he only knew he couldn’t be without her again.
Chapter 9
When Ember awoke early in the morning, it was to a nightmare. It wasn’t the monster this time; it was Truman. She had a nightmare he was leaving her again, and odd as it was after so short a time with him, it broke her heart and left her deranged with depression. She heard his voice tell her he didn’t love her, and it destroyed her, but as she thrashed and screamed to wake herself, arms tightened around her body and she stilled at his touch. He was still there. When her eyes slowly opened, it was still dark outside, and his hands were gliding over her body as his lips that brushed her ear shushed her. “You’re okay. I’m here.” And that was the key.
He moved his hands down to her waist and clutched, gently pulling her hips to his. His erection was long and hard between their bodies and as he held her tight to his body, he murmured in her ear, “Make love to me.” As he pulled her up to straddle him, he reached a quick hand to the box of condoms on the nightstand and handed her one. Apparently, he was more conscious this time than last, and he quickly turned the lamp on and watched her with his hands behind his head as she fumbled with the packet. She removed it and with shaky hands, reached out to his engorged penis. He was smirking and enjoying her nervousness, and he reached a hand down and held his shaft erect from his body while she rolled the condom down along his length.
She made love to him as he used her hips to help her move against his body, and he pulled her chest to his. He was intent on keep her lips against his as much as possible, and she groaned out her orgasm against his mouth when she finally came, and he did too, moments after. He brushed his fingers along her skin as she relaxed against his chest, and when he rolled her to the bed, she drifted back to sleep instantly.
Her dreams were decidedly different for the remainder of the night, and when she woke with the sun shining through her bedroom window, she could smell coffee brewing. She found him in the kitchen with his own mug of coffee already half-empty, and he was just making some toast. He poured her a cup and set the toast in front of her as she took a seat. He sat with only his coffee in front of him, and as she ate, she asked if he wanted some. He responded that he’d already had some. He smiled at her across the table, and her lips curled up in response.
“I have to go to Boston today for a meeting at the college. I probably won’t get back until fairly late, but I’d like you to come over if you don’t have plans.” His eyes shimmered in the sunlight from the window and twinkled. She nodded, and as he stood to leave without finishing his remaining coffee, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. His lips touched her own, and while she was sure she had coffee breath, he had nothing at all but the normal and delicious taste of his mouth. The rest of the world should be so lucky. Even his breath failed to ever be offensive.
He kissed her and ended up setting her on the table, sitting on the chair in front of her and toying with her body for a good ten minutes before he finally left. He stroked, plunged his finger within her body, and tasted, licked, and sucked her sex into ecstasy that left her groaning and gripping the sides of the table as he held her legs out wide and open. As she sat to face him, he leaned to her mouth one last time and then left.
She was in love with him. It wasn’t some confusing quandary to riddle or some anxiety-ridden and unwelcome response to a man. She just loved him. It was simple and easy. Whether he loved her, and she very highly doubted he would after two nights together, was the real question. She wasn’t ready to know for sure, and she had no intention of sharing her feelings with him yet. The details of exactly how she could love someone she barely knew were confusing. She felt as though she knew him. She felt she more than knew him, as though he’d always been a part of her life, and yet, that simply wasn’t true. But it still felt true, just as true and real as the images of him from another lifetime that still flitted through her mind, although she now had plenty to replace them. Those images were as real to her brain as last night was, and it left her feeling she was finally coming home after being parted from her lover rather than embarking on a new blossoming romance, which made no sense of course given he was her first real romance.
By that evening, she was shaved, plucked, and even waxed, thanks to an afternoon she couldn’t afford at the salon, but he left her wanting to impress him, and while he gave her no reason to think he wasn’t, she certainly wasn’t impressed with herself when she looked in the mirror. Her pubic hair was too plentiful, as were her brows; her hair had far too many split ends; and her feet looked as though she’d run a marathon barefoot.
When she left the house after he called to let her know he was home, she was nervous, excited, and she was bruised. Her feet felt raw from being over cheese grated by the pedicurist, her pubic line was nicely reduced but left her skin feeling bare and sore, and she couldn’t quite get the red patch of skin between her eyebrows to cool and calm. But, hey, she looked like a woman … or what someone somewhere decided a woman ought to look like and then decided to pass along to every man on the planet.
She wore a knee-length sundress that was strapless and stayed up only by virtue of the fact it had to hold little in place. Her sandals were strappy and flat, and her hair was done in loose curls that trailed down her back. She wore a simple headband and very little makeup—you may get the girl to the salon, but you sure as hell couldn’t get the salon into the girl. She had never worn much makeup and found she looked like a freak when she tried to wear it, and so, she kept it simple.
When she pulled into his driveway, he met her and opened her door for her. His hand found hers, and as he walked her to the door, he spoke. “I bought you something today… Actually, I bought you a few things…” He was watching her with a very boyish and mischievous grin playing on his mouth. Ember wasn’t sure exactly how old Truman actually was, but he wasn’t old. That said, he also wasn’t in any way immature or juvenile. But at the moment, he looked downright playful.
When he held the door open for her, it was with a quick wink as she passed by him, but as she moved, he stopped her with a sudden hand to the forearm. “Why do you look like someone smacked you between your eyes?”
His question was legitimate, and as she murmured, “Just a waxing mishap,” he chuckled and let her enter. And as he led her to the kitchen, it was with her hand once again clasped in his, and as she rounded the corner to his enormous kitchen island, there was a candle lit, a gift bag sitting on the counter, another bottle of her favorite Chianti, and a plate waiting for her. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, and as she approached, he came up behind her with a soft hand to the back of her neck. “Bread pudding from a great little dessert shop in Boston. Best in town, or so they say… I don’t eat … bread pudding that is.”